Dirty Secrets
by mishatippins
Summary: Initially, Castiel is human and discovers meg is alive. But depression keeps him at bay as Meg attempts to pull him out of it. It takes her a while to get through to him, but in the end Cas opens up to her and again, she has to play nurse for a not only a broken angel, but also a broken man.
1. Chapter 1

Meg felt like she was looking at the poster boy for depression.

It was seven in the afternoon and he was still in bed. She assumed he would have at least gotten up, maybe done_ something_, but all he did was roll over, occasionally open an eye, sigh heavily, and roll back asleep.

Dean and Sam said they were tired of trying to get him to do anything, that Cas had somewhat just become a tumor_. A shrinking tumor,_ she mused.

"Hey," she said suddenly, sitting on the edge of his bed and tapping an uncovered leg. "You should do something."

"Do what?"

"I don't know, something other than lie your ass around."

"No."

She sighed. "Cas I came back for you."

"Why?" It was a question he often repeated, something that he had drilled in his head to reply with every other sentence. "Why should I not just die? I'm sure if the angels heard about that, they'd be livid."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was!" He was sitting up now, his hair in a mess and his blue eyes riled with anger. "I did the trials, I let Metatron trick me. And I caused the fall!"

"Castiel-"

"Go away!" Cas hissed, his movements so fast he almost didn't feel the blunt he gave to the side of her face. After Meg spat out the blood, Castiel felt his arm retract. He had never hit her, only shoved her back when they first met. He never imagined hurting her.

"Meg…I'm-"

Her eyes flicked to black, and with a quick sweep she had him pinned back down, teeth clenched.

"I crawled my ass back out here for _you_. I risked that same hot piece of ass for you, and damn it, Clarence; _you blame so much shit on yourself it makes a demon look righteous_. You sit here and bury yourself in your own grief and pain, well, tough, princess. Because believe it or not, that's life. That's your life. It doesn't matter what you did, Castiel," her face softened, and her eyes flicked back to normal. Getting up from him, she continued. "Because there are people who actually_ give a damn_ about you.

"And you never, ever, touch me like that again, or I will rip off your face."

When she finished, Castiel was looking at her with that stupid face, the one that was mixed with fear, sadness, and…

Wonder.

He was sitting up again, and she was expecting it to be so he could leave, but once he rose he fell against her chest.

"How?"

"How? How what?"

_"How do I make it go away_?"

She realized he was sobbing, the wetness from tears leaking on her top as he grabbed at her shoulders.

"It never goes away," she said as she ran a hand in his hair. "Trust me, you'll want it to. You'll beg for it to go and it never will. But you have to make it go away, anyway."

"I destroyed everything."

"And you'll destroy everything again," it was strange, how odd it was that he, former god, former angel of the Lord, was seeking advice from a demon. "It's a cycle."

"I want it to be over."

"I'm sorry, it wont ever be over."

He was losing it, she thought. He was broken, and falling apart, and he was _losing_ it.

After a while he pulled off of her, not wanting to look at her. The whole idea was so fluffy, do domestic, that Meg was almost angry she didn't hate this entire thing. _Damn heart_.

"Castiel?"

He looked back up her, slowly, with tired eyes, and with a slow hand his grabbed her face.

She was expecting him to do something, like shrink away or fall back, but he kissed her, almost like how he did in Cowley's prison, but softer, gentler.

She fell into it, the human slowly touching her arms.

And then she decided to make the move.

"What-?" he broke their kiss, confused at her actions.

"You and I never got to uh, move that furniture around," she smirked. "Thought it was about time."

The met again and he let her strip him, the ex-angel pulling at her clothes as well.

When they were exposed, Meg shoved Cas down against the back of his bed, sitting on top him as he looked up at her with confusion.

He was about to say something but she silenced him, feeling his lips go from muffled words to accepting her fully.

She showed Castiel the way, and he was obeying her silent orders with quiet ease.

He never imagined sex like this but he was loving it, loving how she felt atop him, loving how she ground their hips together, and how it felt when she left long scratch marks down his chest.

Castiel had never been so moved by anything before.

When she let him come (a phrase he wasn't exactly comfortable with), Castiel was near exhaustion, his breathing ragged and his throat dry.

_So this is what Dean, and every other human on the planet, enjoys so much. _

"Damn, Clarence," she breathed. "You learn quick."

"It's a valuable asset," he yawned.

"You tired?"

"Humans sleep," he replied dryly.

Ignoring his snark comment, she reached over him to grab his left arm, pulling it so that he rolled on his side, Meg snuggling into his chest.

"What are you…"

"Don't expect this every time," she said softly. "I don't cuddle."

He shrugged, pulling her closer to him and burying his head into the back of her neck.

It was in a little over an hour she heard him snore; it wasn't something too loud, just enough that she could tell he was asleep.

She didn't mind him holding her, he did it just to the point where it was almost uncomfortable.

Maybe she could turn this little angel around, she thought as she ordered her body to sleep.

—

The next morning she woke to find the bed empty. She expected Castiel to stay with her, since he seemed to prefer her company. So when she muddled out of Cas's room (and stole a robe from Dean's adjacent), she found him sitting at the table in the kitchenette, talking with Sam and drinking coffee. It was the most alive she'd seen him since she tracked down where the boys were hiding up.

"Someone's in a fucking good mood today," she mused as she approached Castiel, running her hands through his messy hair and bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Good. You two…ah…And Cas…" Sam tried to form the words. "He left the room. That's….good."

"You gonna studder out your dick or are you gonna get me a coffee?" The demon asked as she casually took a seat in Cas's lap.

"We should tell Dean…" Castiel muttered as Sam got up, the larger human eyeing them both.

Meg considered it, before tearing Cas's gaze from Sam's to lock him in a kiss.

"Dean can wait a little longer," she purred. "It's not like we're such a tiny little secret."


	2. Keeping Scars

"Dean's not gonna like this when he finds out."

Castiel appreciated how much Sam seemed to care on his relationship status. The large man had acted as a sort of "third wheel", often keeping an eye out for Dean and letting the two stay together.

But right now Castiel was preoccupied with Meg, kissing her gently on the couch and pretty much ignoring everything Sam had to say.

"I'm just saying, guys."

"And we hear you, Sam," Meg muttered, trying to pry Castielfrom her face for about a second. "Besides, it's fun playing with Dean."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but he found it safer to just shut up. Meg and Cas seemed to have had the whole thing under wraps, Dean had almost walked in on them a week ago but Meg managed to de-rail him on what was really going on between them.

So with a sigh he left them alone, still watching them as he turned towards the kitchen.

"I really would mind if Dean knew, however," Castiel murmured against her lips. "He can, in fact, kill me now."

"What does that matter?" she asked, tearing away from him. "Dean can go screw himself."

'I understand your resentment-"

"Clarence, he left me to die."

Castiel nodded. "I know."

"Either way," she mused when she pressed against him again, her hands running down his chest. "I like this game."

—

It was easier now that Castiel didn't wear that suit all the damn time. She was able to easily rip apart that small grey T-shirt and slip off his black sweatpants, And when she had him pinned down it was like she was emerging as a queen.

Castiel was receptive and moved with her, his human body barely able to keep up with her as the demon rammed into him hard with the plastic strap-on she favored.

Anything to put an ache in the ex-angel's legs was good enough for her.

Castiel would muffle a cry as she jammed into him, watching him dig his nails into his own palms as she scratched down his back.

He had strange scars back there, even stranger than the one that looked like an angel sigil on his front.

No, these were burn marks from his wings, she realized.

Running her hand on them she found the texture of the skin somewhat arousing, and forcing Cas back down she dug into him again, listening to him moan.

Castiel was her puppet and she was surly sticking her plastic hand into him to to control him.

When he cried out their chosen safe word (an obnoxious enochian word she didn't bother to learn), she pulled from him and watched as he collapsed, rolling from his front to his back.

"So soon, Clarence?"

"Human.." he breathed, watching her remove her beloved toy to crawl over his chest.

"You kept your scars."

"They're reminders. I like them."

"Where the fuck did you get the sigil?"

"Van Nuys. I carved it to banish angels away from Adam Milligan in a failed attempt to save him."

"Adam…Castiel that was four years ago."

"I kept it since then."

"Well, isn't that special."

"I'd assume so."

She smirked at him, kissing her human's lips and watching him squirm over to let her snuggle in beside him.

"Still think we should tell Dean?" she asked when the paused for breath.

"One secret wouldn't hurt him," he replied, grabbing her face. "He was the one who said find something to hold on to."

"Touche'."


	3. Morning rituals

He was on his stomach, shirtless (dear God), his face pressed in deep into the pillow. He liked having several comforters and being warm, he liked to sleep with socks on (what was wrong with him?), and he snored (but it was a cute snore, one that wasn't too loud).

Meg liked watching him, watching how his eyes sometimes rolled open, l as if he was wanting to make sure she was still there, watching him awake and be groggy, his hair messy from both sex and sleep, his voice somehow even deeper and his face scratchy with a growing beard.

When he slept he did this thing where he had to hold something, sometimes a comforter, sometimes a pillow, mostly her, or he couldn't sleep.

But this time he wasn't holding anything, because he's just fucked the absolute shit out of him.

He was weak, powerless, and she liked that. Of course, that meant he tired out much, much faster than he used to, but her little human was learning (and trying) to hold on. She appreciated that he attempted to please her, and that kept her returning to his bed every night.

He woke up at eight every morning, if he was home. He made breakfast for the Winchesters, even occasionally for her when she was up to eating, trying to keep from letting the Winchesters see his scraps and his limps from their nights together. He even wore sweaters for a week in June to hide her hickeys.

It was around that time he began to stir, stretching in that odd flexible way he had, before he opened his eyes to stair at her.

"Bout time you woke," she teased, watching him stretch again before sitting up.

"I wanted to sleep in."

"Routine too much huh?"

"A bit."

He seemed to feel more comfortable than he'd ever been with humanity. He was starting to sleep again, starting to go outside, and Meg had a feeling it was because of her. Not that she minded, anyway.

He was grabbing at her, blindly, his fingers brushing her arm before she let him have her. He was pulling her down beside him, the thin man rolling her from her back to her side before he kissed her collar bone.

"Why so needy, Cas?" she asked, feeling his hand run over her hip, and his other hand run against her face.

"I fell asleep."

"You're human, it happens."

"It shouldn't," he was against her neck now, his stubble ticking her as he maneuvered around her face. Cas's recent devotion made the demon uncomfortable, but she liked how he seemed to be serious about it.

"They're going to miss you if you don't get up."

"I don't want to."

She was kissing him and it felt natural. She didn't get a burn from it anymore, she didn't feel that clean sensation of his grace. To be honest she missed it.

Morning sex wasn't the usual but she welcomed it, letting Castiel roll her ontop of him so that he could see her, and with soft, rigid hands he felt her from her sides to around her back.

He liked how small she was, and how she seemed to just simply seemed to fall into him like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Cas-"

"Please?" he begged her, forcing her back down.

"Fine. Five minutes. Because I don't want Dean strutting in here and seeing this."

"When are we going to tell him?"

"If we're lucky, never."


End file.
